


Give Me Violence

by Perilous_Grey



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Underfell, But when does he not, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Dark, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Heavy Angst, Sans Has Issues, Suffering Sans, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perilous_Grey/pseuds/Perilous_Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans always knew he'd inevitably reach his breaking point. It was only a matter of when.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by [this](http://underfell.tumblr.com/post/133449438581/so-im-undertale-trash-now-but-not-only-that-iml) image.
> 
> What can I say, I enjoy a suffering Sans as much as a happy one.
> 
> Title taken from Violence (Enough is Enough) by A Day to Remember.
> 
> Side note, in this timeline Frisk has only ever attempted genocide runs.
> 
> Enjoy.

_nice job, i didn’t know snapping vertebrae could make such a satisfying sound._

 

Sans tried to shove the whispered horror back into the dark abyss it had crawled out of.

 

 _does their spine look a little funny to you? a little...out of whack?_ The thought slipped unbidden through his conscious as he slammed the demon child into a stone pillar hard enough for cracks to form. He grimaced internally.          

 

 _come on,_ the hateful voice crooned, _let’s see what the inside of a human’s chest cavity looks like._

 

 _no._ Sans shook his head in a vain attempt to dislodge the malevolent idea, ashamed at the spark of curious excitement the words inspired. He was not that person, nor was he ever going to be the type to harm others for his own sick enjoyment.

 

_how much you wanna bet?_

 

 _shut up!_ He wanted to yell. But he would be shouting at nothing, a void, _himself_ , the looming darkness that had been festering at the edge of his mind for an endless cycle of doomed timelines, failure after failure after failure. At the end of the day it didn’t matter who stood victorious; they would all cease to exist and be born anew in a fresh timeline with near identical choices that ended in the same disappointing violence of the here and now.

 

Sans had lost track of how many times the kid had followed this path of pointless bloodshed. His notes had stopped after the forty-seventh repeated line of _it always ends like this_ followed by a mess of smeared ink, the occasional perturbed sentence scrawled in a handwriting increasingly not his own.

 

_they shattered their skull this time._

 

_kid tried again another two times before resetting. not sure if that’s any better._

_why doesn’t it ever end?_

 

_papyrus’ scarf was wrapped around their neck one second and spattered with blood the next in my hands. everything was a blur. the body was...a bit mangled._

 

_i can end it all._

 

_~~i can end them all and they don’t even know it~~ _

 

_never realized how fragile humans were, their necks in particular. just like squeezing a particularly dense tube of toothpaste._

 

He’d sat in silence for a good hour or so in the dark of his room trying to reconcile that last entry with his scattered memories of past timelines and had come up with a chilling blank.

 

The sinful voice _relished_ the idea of such violence like Papyrus enjoyed spaghetti. It was maddening trying to ward off the increasingly vicious desires when every reset seemed to make it stronger, and piece by piece, Sans felt his resolve and sanity slipping away, consumed by the roiling black hatred that lurked deep in his bones. Add to the fact that the hell spawn half-pint continuously attempted to shank him on a regular basis and San’s patience was split pretty thin.

 

As far as determination went, he would hold on as long as he could fighting the good fight, but...

 

Battling multiple demons was exhausting.

 

If Sans was being honest with himself - which he tried to avoid nowadays since reality was a fucking joke - there were very few threads left holding his non-existent stuffing together, strung up as he was like fate’s punching bag.

 

Whoever had thought testing interdimensional time travel was a good idea was a real numbskull.

 

Consumed by racing thoughts, Sans barely remembered to side step in time as the kid went flying past, a hair’s breadth from nicking his flank.

 

A flicker of rage ignited. _the audacity of this kid_. With a sharp jerk of his hand the skeleton watched in distant fascination as the demon went hurtling hard enough to leave a child sized imprint in a granite column.

 

_ha ha, now you’re gettin’ it. maybe next time they’ll snap in two._

 

Ice shot down Sans’s spine at the gleeful tone. He’d never felt such intensive emotion in all of his lifetimes as he had in that single moment, an inferno of hatred that left him charred and empty in its wake.

 

Had that really been him? His arm had reacted instinctively before he’d barely contemplated his next move. A deadly, bloodthirsty instinct.

 

Sweat beaded the side of his skull.

 

What was happening to him?

 

_just thought i’d give you a little push, pal. isn’t that what friends are for?_

 

 _you’re no friend of mine,_ he thought harshly, a sick sense of foreboding creeping through his soul.

 

Sans could only watch in abject alarm as the same traitorous hand wiggled its boney fingers in a mocking wave before proceeding to send another volley of sharp bones at the staggering child, barely recovered from imprinting their facial structure into stone.

 

Grasping his left wrist tightly, Sans felt an intense vertigo overcome his senses, strong enough to send him crashing to his knees. _no, no, no,_ the single thought looped like an endless record. It was rare but not unheard of for a monster to lose control of their magic, be it from age, strong emotional reaction, or pure power level, but magic acting out on its own?

 

Never.

 

Of course most monsters didn’t suffer from a debilitating concoction of negative emotions wrought by an endless reality of death and suffering that was impossible to wake up from. Depression dragged at his soul constantly, the weight of reset and regret a familiar noose that tightened with every one of Papyrus’ smile that winked out of existence. Who was to say Sans wasn’t legitimately losing his mind?

 

Control was quickly becoming a passing dream that dissolved the more he reached for it.

 

 _they deserve to die a thousand deaths for what they’ve done_ , a voice whispered.

 

 _why don’t you let some of that rage out of its box and show the kid a **fun** time? _ another coaxed.

 

_this world could use a little violence to brighten up the place, don’t cha’ think?_

 

The voices coalesced into a virulent storm, a faint humming beginning to beat at the back of his skull. An intense shock of pain suddenly ripped through his left eye socket.

 

Crying out, Sans dropped his wrist in favor of clawing at the abused socket in an effort to _make it stop_. Heat flared under his palm and he valiantly attempted to block the wisps of escaping magic to no avail; he was shaking too badly. Not that it would do much good. It was akin to shoving lava back into an angry volcano, the heated pressure threatening to rupture and spill waves of magic at any second, decimating everything in its path. Magic had never felt this searing in all the time he had been in possession of his eye, not even during the initial accident where the sheer amount of power had been acid engulfing his skull in a fire of too-much-too-soon that had nearly melted him from the inside out and taken a good portion of the Underground with it.

 

An unfamiliar tendril of crimson magic began to twine with the bright blue of his normal energy and Sans could barely bite back the scream of agony when the leaking magic escalated from scorching to smothering, a terrible burn spreading through his bones.

 

The kid was long forgotten.

 

 _make it stop!_ He wanted to scream, but the flames stole his breath as they continued to devour his very being.

 

Frisk, swaying but resolutely on their feet, watched in confusion as the skeleton transformed into a literal blue bonfire, threads of red flashing through the swirling energy. _This_ had certainly never happened before. Clutching their battered right arm they took a few hesitant steps backward out of the lashing magic’s range, content to observe for the moment.

 

Through waves of pain Sans could barely make out the murmur of words over the raging inferno.

 

 _let go,_ the poisonous voice rumbled.

 

Sans sobbed in desperation but hung on. Giving up... he knew inexplicably things would never be the same if he succumbed to the voice. _He_ would never be the same.

 

 _let me help_.

 

 _you don’t want to help,_ he chuckled with humorless certainty. _you’ve never wanted to help._

He stifled another cry as the magic _pulsed_ , a concentrated wave of heat searing his frame.

_aw, don’t be like that pal. how can you be so sure?_

Sans could barely summon the wherewithal to be properly horrified that his magic had developed a mind of its own.

The wildfire escalated to an icey-hot firestorm and Sans imagined this must have been what the center of a supernova felt like right before it collapsed in on itself and became a voracious black hole like his astronomy books described. Talk about an understatement. The words certainly didn’t due the experience justice.

 

Beneath the all-consuming fire, the terror of the situation at hand, buried deep under the ever present and incessantly concealed fear, he finally acknowledged a long ignored truth:

 

He was tired. So tired.

 

 _c’mon, just a short break…_ the voice lied with saccharine sweetness.

 

Another sob worked its way through clenched teeth as the fire peaked impossibly hotter.

 

**_let go._ **

 

“i’m sorry, papyrus.”

 

Everything was engulfed in white.

 

_***_

 

Upon returning to the corridor one radically different judgement later, Frisk found a surprise.

 

“heya kiddo,” said the menacing skeleton masquerading as Sans. His grin was a mouthful of razor blades and genuine malicious glee. “ready to have a bad time?”

 

Gone was the trademark blue jacket, replaced by a black parka with an oddly spiked fur collar and red undershirt, slippers traded for a pair of laced tennis shoes of the same hue and calf length socks. A single golden tooth glinted in the stained glass light.

 

And his eyes...

 

Vibrant rubies eyed them lazily, dark amusement flickering to life when the silence dragged on.

 

Frisk could feel their sins crawling on their back.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critique always appreciated.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [perilous-grey.tumblr.com](http://perilous-grey.tumblr.com/) for more Undertale shenanigans, my ask box is always open (especially regarding my favorite trash-thug AU Underfell).


End file.
